


Unknown Pleasures

by Kattlupin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Animagus, Bisexual, Clothes Sharing, Coming Out, Cuddles, First War with Voldemort, Fluff, Frottage, Gay Awakening, Get Together, Hand Jobs, Healer Sirius, Hiding, Hurt/Comfort, Joy Division - Freeform, Kisses, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Plants, Roommates, Werewolf, bisexual awakening, lock down, moving in, order mission, shelter in place, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kattlupin/pseuds/Kattlupin
Summary: With the war intensifying around him Sirius starts to question what the point of all of this is. It just takes an Order mandated shelter-in-place with Remus and his kind words, magical plants, and good home cooked meals for Sirius to finally realize where his heart lies and that there are reasons to continue to fight.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 324
Kudos: 462





	1. Chapter 1

Sirius takes another swig of Fire Whiskey from his flask then jiggles it in front of James. James bats it away without glancing at it, his eyes and ears intent on whatever it is that Dumbledore is droning on about. Sirius had given up listening to Dumbledore quite some time ago. The way he casually brushed off the near death of the Prewitt twins whose flat had been raided by Death Eaters the night before was enough for Sirius to deem anything else he has to say as unimportant. 

It’s not the first time Dumbledore has treated an Order member’s near death so casually and Sirius is pretty sure it won’t be the last. He’s been steadily losing faith in the aging wizard since Remus turned up far worse for wear after a full moon a few months previous. The frantic phone call Sirius had received from Hope Lupin looking for anyone who had any form of healer training was five of the most terrifying minutes of his life—quickly followed by what was definitely the most terrifying hour of Sirius’s life spent casting healing charms and forcing healing potions down Remus’s semi-conscious throat. 

Talk about real life application, on the job training. Too bad it wouldn’t count towards any of Sirius’s credits of study at St. Mungo’s, which really is a shame. Remus is, after all, the entire motivation for Sirius’s field of study. If the Wizarding World as a whole is going to invalidate Remus’s existence at every turn, Sirius is damn sure going to fix that by doing what he does best—which is the exact opposite of what any line he’s supposed to toe tells him to do. But even that’s been put on relative hold with St. Mungo’s switching to home-based learning and owl correspondence since a string of attacks on some of its war-addled patients occurred at the end of last summer. 

“So you’re saying that it’s hopeless?” James questions Dumbledore and breaks Sirius from his thoughts. Sirius directs his attention to James and watches as he slips his arm around Lily. “That what we’re doing is making no difference?”

“I can assure you, James, that we  _ are _ making a difference. I’m simply asking all of you to take this extra precaution. We’ll all be able to sleep better at night knowing that our home locations are safe and secure.”

“But we won’t be able to see each other or hang out or anything outside of essential work or Order duties,” James complains.

“Well, no,” Dumbledore confirms and Sirius looks towards James who pulls Lily closer to his side, then Sirius turns to look at Remus sitting forlorn and tired from the full moon three nights previous and watches as his lips twist into his signature, quiet, resignated frown before he speaks. 

“Though I’m not looking forward to it,” Remus says, voice in a monotone as he looks down at his legs, the fabric worn near threadbare as if his knees are about to rip through the most recently cast mending charm at any moment. “After what happened to the Prewitts. I have to agree with Dumbledore that this is probably for the best. We’ll be able to see each other again when this is all over.” 

Sirius feels his heart plummet. Outside of the occasional holiday while they were still attending Hogwarts, Sirius hasn’t gone more than a day or two without seeing Remus, James, or Peter. They’ve always been close, and with James being more thoroughly preoccupied with Lily and Peter more and more attached to Mary, Remus has slid right into Sirius’s number one spot for company and entertainment. The thought of losing his regular daily presence due to a mandatory shelter-in-place order is enough to send Sirius into a bit of a disheartened panic. 

“But this could last months,” Sirius grumbles. “I don’t even have a job to go to. Just Order business when  _ you  _ deem I’m important  _ or  _ disposable enough.” 

“Nobody in the order is  _ disposable,  _ Sirius,” Dumbledore corrects and it sends him into a rage.

“Nobody?!” Sirius questions and accuses. He narrows his eyes at Dumbledore. “You treat Remus like he’s disposable every full moon.” 

“Sirius...” Remus bristles.

“No,” Sirius says flatly. “You know it’s true, you just won’t say it because you feel like you owe him. We’ve given enough for this war.  _ You,”  _ he points at Remus for effect, “have given enough for this war, and now this man is demanding that we all hide from each other. I don’t think so.”

“Sirius,” Dumbledore says calmly but makes no effort to counter what Sirius has just accused him of. “I’m not asking you all to hide from each other. I’m asking you all to place your homes and flats under a  _ Fidelius _ charm and stay there unless called upon. Moody and I have discussed this as the best course of action. And furthermore,” Dumbledore turns his attention from Sirius to Remus, “Remus, your missions with the werewolves are over. I’ll contact you if I find another suitable position for you within the Order.” 

“Yes, sir,” Remus answers and Sirius feels his blood boil. 

On one hand, he’s relieved that Remus will no longer be required to join the werewolf packs and subsequently, Greyback, any longer. This is what Sirius has wanted for his friend since the first time Dumbledore had pulled Remus aside declaring that the best use of him was going to be essentially sacrificing him to the monster that had set his life on a course of utter tragedy. It has been the one and only proverbial thorn lodged within the side of their friendship. And now that it’s been pulled, Sirius still has to take a deep breath and restrain himself from rising to his full height, towering over Dumbledore and punching the wizened wizard in the face with his other hand, somehow still indignant on Remus’s behalf.

“It would behoove all of you,” Dumbledore continues, “to go home tonight and prepare. If you live with someone else, make sure they understand the situation. This is, after all, for everybody’s safety.”

“What about secret keepers?” Peter asks from across the room where he’s standing with Mary. 

“Decide with whomever you are living who will play that role,” Dumbledore directs. “If you live alone then that decision should be easy.”

“And who will be performing these charms?” Lily asks. “They’re quite complicated.”

“Myself, Moody, or Kingsley Shacklebolt will be visiting all order members tomorrow to get the charms set.”

“Tomorrow?!” Sirius exclaims. “That gives us hardly anytime to prepare.” But what he wants to say is that it gives them hardly anytime to say goodbye. Who knows how long they’ll be locked away for and this is potentially the last night that he will see any of his friends outside of Order business other than James for the foreseeable future.

“Yes, Sirius, tomorrow,” Dumbledore reiterates. “So I suggest we all get a move on tonight. An owl will arrive tomorrow morning with a time to expect someone to aid in the casting of the charm.”

The sounds of chairs scraping the floor and the soles of people’s shoes walking across the hardwood floors of the Order's safe house begin to fill the room and Sirius chances a glance at everyone's worried faces. In theory, none of this should’ve surprised any of them—things have been taking a turn for the worse for a while now as far as the war has been concerned. This sudden and extreme lockdown is still a bit jarring and something they all had hoped wouldn’t be necessary, yet here they are standing on the precipice of life forever changed, again. 

“So what do you think, Padfoot?” James asks.

“I think it’s bullshit, is what I think.”

“It is for our safety though,” Remus sighs as he steps into the space beside Sirius.

That sigh crawls all the way up Sirius’s spine, he hasn’t felt that anything regarding Remus’s life since they left Hogwarts has been safe at all, even if he is the most formidable of them in defense. And while Remus has been off infiltrating werewolf packs, facing nightmares more intense than a boggart could bring—Sirius himself, James, Peter, Lily, and Mary have largely just been running patrols of Muggle neighborhoods without another wizard in sight. Sirius runs a frustrated hand through his hair, tugging harshly at the strands. 

“Personally, I’m quite looking forward to this,” Mary says happily. “Finally Peter and I will have some quality alone time in our new flat. Here’s hoping we don’t kill each other.” 

“You won’t,” Lily laughs. “James and I however, well that’s a worry.”

“James and I?” Sirius questions, his eyes quickly moving to bore holes into Lily.

“Well, yeah, Padfoot,” James begins and brings one hand to Sirius’s shoulder and the other nervously up to his own neck. “Lily and I have been talking about moving in together. I was planning on talking to you, but this seems to have moved our timetable up a bit.”

“So you’re moving out,” Sirius says dejectedly. “Great. Looks like I’ll be weathering this confinement solitarily. Does anybody know where I can rent some dementors to really cozy up the place?”

“Sirius,” Remus says, grabbing Sirius’s attention, his features moving into a playful and teasing grin. “If you’d like, you could switch with me. I’m sure my parents would love to have you and you’d fit so comfortably on my childhood bed.”

James sucks in a breath. “I do not envy you Moony.”

Lily swats at him and says, “Hope and Lyall are so lovely. Remus you’re lucky.”

“I am,” he agrees. “Doesn’t change the fact that enduring a lockdown with my parents isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.”

“You could move in with me?” Sirius suggests, the idea completely bypassing his thoughts and instead choosing to just voice itself without consulting Sirius at all. Once it’s spoken, he finds that it is indeed a very good solution and his heart begins to hammer in anticipation of Remus’s answer.

Remus bites his lip and tilts his head to the side, his curls flopping over with it. “You’d really want that?”

“Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I? You’re one of my best mates and not going to leave me stranded for a girl.”

“He might leave you stranded for a boy,” James jests, his tone playful, but Sirius can feel him burning a hole into his temple with his gaze, no doubt irritated with Sirius for his remark about leaving him stranded. 

Sirius doesn’t care. He’ll always love James like a brother, and he’s happy for him and his success with Lily, even if it has left Sirius feeling a bit behind—something he and Remus have both expressed in the months that they have been steadily becoming each others partners in crime as the other two marauders settle into the misguided haze of normative domestic bliss. 

“So what do you think, Remus? I’ve got a spare room waiting for you.”

“Alright,” Remus nods. “I’ll pack up tonight.”


	2. Chapter 2

For the first time in what feels like forever Sirius wakes with purpose well before his alarm is set to go off. He rises quickly from his bed and slips on a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt, then moves across his room and out into the hall, taking brisk steps instead of his usual sleepy shuffle into the kitchen to set the kettle on the stove. 

“You’re up early,” James points out from where he’s eating a bit of buttered and jammed toast, leaning against the counter. 

Sirius shrugs a shoulder at him and runs the faucet to fill the kettle just as Lily enters. She silently pulls three mugs down from the cabinet and places them beside Sirius. He tries not to be annoyed. This kettle was meant to welcome Remus, not see James and apparently, Lily, off as well. 

“Excited to exchange me for Moony?” James asks jovially, a bright grin on his face as well as a smearing of strawberry jam that Lily removes with her finger then licks away.

“You mean exchange you  _ and  _ Lily for Moony,” Sirius says dryly, trying to suppress his annoyance with the two of them as he presses his wand to the now full kettle making it instantly sing. He scoops some tea leaves into a strainer and drops it into the water, then sets it alongside the mugs. 

“Two for one deal,” James jokes around the last bite of his toast. 

“I think you mean one for two,” Sirius quips back. “Regardless, I’m getting Moony for a bargain price.”

“Are you saying I’m cheap, Padfoot?” James asks, bringing one hand to his chest as if he’s insulted. 

“Depends,” Sirius fixes him with his gaze and raises an eyebrow in preparation of asking a question he already knows the answer to. “Is that the last slice of my bread that you’re eating?”

“Sorry,” James apologizes and at least has the good sense to look guilty as his shoulders creep up to his ears and his grin turns more into a grimace. 

This is one of many things that Sirius isn’t going to miss about James and his blatant disregard to the concept of sharing with others. It’s as if the man lives an existence where everything has an endless supply, and maybe for James it does. Remus, however, knows what it means to share, knows what it means to go without, and most of all knows how to ask his housemates if he can help himself to the last slice of bread. 

Even while at Hogwarts with the four marauders eating off an endless buffet of perfectly prepared and charmed foods, Remus would choose none if there were only three. Sirius was the first to notice this little quirk about Remus, and was subsequently the one to make sure that Remus didn’t have to go without. Now with him moving in, Sirius supposes that will be his job again, and it makes him smile to know that he’ll be able to keep a watchful eye on Remus.

“What are you grinning about, Sirius?” Lily asks as she pours a cup of tea then hands it to James before pouring one for herself. 

“Nothing,” Sirius says, the grin in question instantly dropping from his face while he pours himself the last remaining dregs of tea from the kettle. 

“That didn’t look like a typical ‘nothing’ Padfoot grin,” James knowingly points out.

“Oh for fucksake, it was not a noteworthy grin. Don’t you have packing to do?”

“Aren’t you going to help?” James asks, genuinely confused.

“I wasn’t planning on it. I gotta get this place cleaned up before Moony gets here.”

“Just use Mitsy.”

Sirius rolls his eyes and cuffs James behind the ear. “I’m not using your parents’ House Elf to clean up this place.”

“Your loss,” James shrugs. “She’s already been here for my laundry.”

“You’re hopeless, you know that?” Sirius questions James, not actually wanting an answer, then turns his attention to Lily. “You sure you want this one?”

“Why? You wanna keep him?”

“No thanks, he’s all yours,” Sirius laughs.

“I feel like I should be insulted here,” James says as he engulfs Lily into his arms. He leans down and hooks his chin over her shoulder and they both gaze at Sirius softly. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright without me?”

“Oh, I’m definitely sure,” Sirius nods, then switches to a more serious and somber tone. “Just stay safe where you are, alright?”

James lets go of Lily and wraps Sirius in a loose, brotherly hug. “You too, Padfoot. And take care of Moony as well, would ya? You know how he is.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Alright,” James says, thumping Sirius twice on the back before letting go. “Lily and I better get a move on. Just a few more items to shrink and throw into boxes and then were out. Think Moony wants the furniture in there?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t fancy the idea of sleeping on the floor,” Sirius deadpans.

“There’s always your bed,” Lily teases.

“I don’t fancy sleeping on the floor either.”

“That’s actually not what I meant,” she says with a barely concealed giggle. Sirius drops his head to the side and furrows his brow in confusion at her, causing Lily to laugh harder as she grabs James’s hand and begins to lead him out of the kitchen. “Let’s go. I wanna get back to my place soon, and not leave Dumbledore waiting to set the charm.”

Sirius gets to work on picking up the place once they’ve left the kitchen. There's nothing a few quick flicks of his wand and some well cast cleaning spells can’t take care of, but he feels inexplicably nervous just the same. His heart is racing as if he has had too much caffeine, despite the fact that he is only half way through his first cup of tea. 

He’s just finishing clearing off a few shelves in the living room for Remus to store some of his books if he chooses when he hears a gentle ‘ _ tap tap tap’  _ on the front door. He quickly strides over and opens it to see Remus standing at the threshold with only one box in his hands. Sirius smiles broadly and ushers Remus inside. “Forget your key?”

“No,” Remus says, his cheeks beginning to bloom pink. “I just... it feels different coming here today for some reason.”

“Coming home feels different to you?” Sirius asks curiously. Though he has to admit that Remus arriving today feels different than it has every other time he’s walked through that door in the past. There’s no reason why it should, it just does, and Sirius is hard pressed to try and explain it. 

“Well, when you say it like that I guess it shouldn’t.” Remus laughs and gently places his lone box on the floor, careful not to put it in anyone's pathway. 

“Is that Moony?” James yells from his—now Remus’s—bedroom.

“Yeah, it’s me James!”

“Good, Padfoot’s been a bit of a prick waiting for you,” James says as he emerges from the hall carrying three boxes stacked high in his hands. 

Sirius flushes, feeling a flash of annoyance rise up in him. “I haven’t been a prick,” he says in his defense. “Just right ready to be rid of you.”

“Har, har,” James fake laughs. “You know, it’s a good thing you’re my brother or I’d assume you didn’t love me.” He sets the boxes down in the middle of the room and lifts Remus up off of his feet as he pulls him into a hug, causing a yelp to escape Remus’s lips. “Take care of the grump for me, would ya, Moony? Feed him, water him, make sure he has sunlight.” 

“Like a house plant,” Remus says wisely, nodding in agreement once James puts him down. He bends at the waist, reaches into his box, and pulls out a small succulent in a shallow white bowl. He places it on the shelf that Sirius had just cleared off for him. “I think I can manage.” 

“Is that all you brought?” James asks, lightly tapping the box with his toe. “Guess it’s a good thing I left all the furniture for you.”

“Well, it’s not like I have much,” Remus says sheepishly and hastily folds the box of his meager belongings closed again. 

Sirius feels his heart clench and he wraps an arm around Remus’s shoulders on reflex. “No worries my dear Moony. What’s mine is yours now.” 


	3. Chapter 3

It’s a weird thing to Sirius, watching Remus move about the kitchen in the mornings. The way he has to rise onto the balls of his feet to reach for a mug that has slid to the back of the cabinet on the second shelf for his tea, or the fact that he takes the extra time to make his tea the Muggle way—even if Sirius has found that he’s more partial to it this way as well in the brief amount of time that Remus has been living with him—is quite endearing to Sirius in every way. He’d grown used to James’s clambering and banging around every morning—well, all day every day actually—and this change to a calmer and more peaceful dual cohabitation is absolute bliss. 

He’s lounging on the couch, idly flipping through the channels of the Muggle telly that Remus had brought with him—an old relic from his Muggle grandmother’s home that he kept after she passed away years ago and charmed to not only work inside a magical environment, but to also pick up transmissions from around the world as well. Sirius is currently trying to find a movie to watch when Remus hands him a mug of perfectly brewed tea and places a bowl of warm porridge filled with fruit, nuts, and a drizzling of honey onto the end table. 

“Thank you,” Sirius says as he moves his long legs and adjusts himself to sit more upright to make room for Remus on the other side of the sofa. 

“You’re welcome,” Remus hums more than says as he sips his tea and sits down, bringing his feet up onto the cushions, his knees bent to his chest. Sirius watches him put his tea down on the window sill behind him and then balance his bowl of porridge on his knobby knees, carefully bringing a spoonful to his mouth, his eyes focused on the telly. “This one’s good,” he says and points with his now empty spoon.

Sirius turns his head just in time to see the large block title letters  _ Dog Day Afternoon _ hover across the screen. “What’s it about?” he asks and turns his attention back to Remus. Remus, having had more exposure to the Muggle world due to his mother and also being her perma-date for most films, always lights up in a way that Sirius can’t quite put his finger on whenever he gets the opportunity to explain something divinely Muggle to his friends. 

“It’s a bank heist gone wrong,” he says, his eyes fixed on the screen and his cheeks starting to glow bright. “A bit controversial actually,” he shrugs, “as the main character is married to a trans woman. My mother and I really enjoyed it. I think you’ll like it too.” 

“Interesting,” Sirius says, and he really is interested, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off of Remus.

Remus looks over his shoulder at Sirius and laughs a light laugh. “It’s more interesting if you  _ actually _ watch it.”

“I’m watching,” Sirius protests and rolls his eyes as he swivels his gaze back to the telly, taking a sip of his tea and grabbing his own bowl of porridge. He hums happily around his first spoonful. These breakfasts that Remus has been preparing each morning are even better than those he was fed at Hogwarts. 

Remus’s cooking, as it turns out, is just as comforting and unchaotic as Remus’s presence. Everything is made simply, yet somehow rich and flavorful. Sirius doesn’t even miss the near nightly curries that he and James would get from the corner shop far too regularly, which is something that surprises him, as he was worried about how it was he was going to feed himself, and Remus for that matter, during this lockdown. But as it turns out, Remus is a wonder in the kitchen, quite capable of whipping up a variety of meals from the weekly supplies that are delivered from the Order by owl each Friday morning, along with pickings from the supplementary garden that he tends on the magically extended balcony that Sirius has used mostly for smoking. 

He’s been here for just under a month and already Sirius wonders how he had been so naive to think that living with James after Hogwarts was the best idea. Clearly he should have made a better case for Remus to move in with him instead. 

It’s not just the cooking, or the fact that Remus is a naturally neat individual who’s always cleaning up after himself that has endeared Sirius to this new way of living. It’s everything about having Remus around. The calm conversations about films and books, the taking turns over who gets to pick the record playing in the background, the plants that seem to be manifesting into the corners and onto shelves breathing new life into the flat, the soft sighs coming from the other end of the sofa as the day drags on and Remus’s body prepares itself for the impending full moon this coming weekend. 

Sirius looks over at him. His face is pale, he’s shuddering softly, and his exposed forearms are littered with gooseflesh. “You okay?” Sirius asks and reaches to pull at Remus’s feet to place them into his lap, he squeezes at them gently, knowing that they tend to cramp. 

“Mmmhmm,” Remus hums, his eyes heavy. 

“You look cold,” Sirius says matter-of-factly and reaches behind himself with one long arm for the thick hooded sweatshirt he keeps hanging by the door. He lightly hands it to Remus. “Here, put this on.”

“Thanks,” Remus says as he grabs it and gingerly begins to shrug it over his shoulders and head. 

An urge surges through Sirius, and before he can stop himself he’s leaning across the couch and helping Remus pull his tired arms through the much-too-big-on-him sleeves. He’s blushing when his head pops through the neck hole and Sirius at least has the good sense this time to ignore the urge that is prodding him to reach and smooth down Remus’s curls that are now disheveled and floating every which way a top his head—despite the fact that for some unknown reason he desperately wants to do just that. “Sorry,” he says instead and flops back down onto his side of the sofa.

“It’s okay,” Remus says self-consciously, ducking his head and then lies back down before he hesitantly, and much to Sirius’s relief, places his feet back into Sirius’s lap. 

Instantly, Sirius resumes his rubbing, as if it is the most natural thing in the world for one friend to do for another. 

_____

Sirius swears under his breath when he hears the hissing sound of the water overbowling from the pot he’s cooking pasta in as he pulls the garlic bread he’s practically blackened under the broiler out from the oven. He drops the pan of garlic bread along with the towel he’d used to grab it onto the counter then quickly grabs the handles of the pot to move it off the flame and winces when the hot metal instantly burns his skin. “Fuck!” he yells out then cringes and hastily shuts the burner off, then side steps to the sink and runs the cool water over his hands. He lets out a heavy breath while the water soothes the skin. 

He closes his eyes and could fall asleep on his feet right here in the kitchen, his whole being exhausted from running all night as Padfoot with Moony then apparating back to the flat as soon as Remus changed back into himself. He’d fought with Remus, insisting that Remus let him tend to his wounds, but Remus wouldn’t let him and instead locked himself in the bathroom where Sirius sat on the other side of the door listening to Remus attempt to cast healing charms on himself. 

Sirius felt bad—he'd already fought with Remus the night before over him accompanying Remus to the forest Dumbledore deemed safe for him in Northumberland. Remus said it was ridiculous for them both to go, that it was too dangerous, and that he couldn’t let Sirius take that risk. Luckily, Sirius had won that argument—Remus was in no condition for apparition once the moon had set, and he surely would’ve splinched himself trying. Sirius would have been wiser to not point that out to Remus before he even had a chance to sit down after arriving back home, and subsequently setting off the argument over tending to Remus’s post moon needs. 

The whole day has been thrown off. Sirius couldn’t quiet his mind to rest and spent most of the day pacing the flat and occasionally poking his head into Remus’s room to check if he was still asleep—half wanting him to be passed out cold resting and healing, and half guiltily wanting him to be awake so he could apologize for being such a smug berk earlier. 

He’s startled by the feeling of a light touch on his forearm as Remus soundlessly sidles up beside him and shuts the water off. “Lemme see,” he says and takes Sirius’s hands into his own. He’s gentle and light with his touch as he looks them over. The water having already soothed them makes Remus’s once over unnecessary, but Sirius likes the way that Remus is gently cradling his hands and running his soft fingertips over the slightly pinkened skin. “They look okay.”

“Are you sure?” Sirius asks, his eyes focused on the way that Remus’s curls are hanging forward over his eyes as he looks down upon Sirius’s hands. 

“You’re the healer in training.” Remus laughs and lets go. He weakly gestures around the kitchen. “What’s all this?”

“I thought I’d make us dinner for a change.” Sirius shrugs and runs a hand through his hair, pushing the long and slightly sweaty from residual cooking heat strands back and away from his flushed face. 

“And how is that going?” Remus asks, a sweet smile on his face that Sirius can tell he’s politely trying to keep from growing too wide in his amusement at the situation. 

“Not very well,” Sirius concedes. 

Remus leans against the counter, looking for all intents and purposes as if he needs all the help he can get to stay on his feet. “How bout I help you with the cooking?” he suggests sleepily. 

“Are you up for that? Might do you better to lie down,” Sirius points out, internally hoping he hasn’t overstepped and accidently set off another argument. 

“We need to eat,” Remus says around a yawn, punctuated by his hand coming to his mouth and his eyes fluttering briefly closed. “I’ll just give you directions and maybe a few flicks of my wand.”

Sirius steps to stand in front of Remus and hunches forward a bit to look him in the eyes. “Okay,” he says and carefully brings his hands to Remus’s narrow hips and waits for any sign of discontent from Remus. When he gets none, he lifts him to place Remus to sit atop the counter. 

With Remus’s know-how and patient guidance, Sirius somehow manages to salvage this meal. It’s nothing special, nowhere near anything Remus ever prepares for them, but Sirius still feels somewhat pleased with the results as Remus hums and smiles approvingly around his first bite of pasta with sautéed cherry tomatoes and fresh basil from Remus’s balcony garden. “You did good,” he says as he swallows and carefully holds the bowl close to his chest as he lifts his feet up onto the cushions of the sofa. 

“Next month maybe we’ll pre-prep food.” Sirius suggests tiredly and settles into his seat, finally feeling like he can relax. 

“That’s actually a pretty good idea,” Remus agrees. “A little less stress for both of us.”

“Definitely.” Sirius reaches over to squeeze Remus’s shoulder, happy they’re settling back into themselves. His hand is slightly wet and stained red with a bit of blood when he removes it. “You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah,” Remus says and bites at his lower lip. “Do you think you can mend it for me?”

Sirius, smartly recognizing this moment for what it is—Remus, not just asking for but accepting that he needs help—carefully responds. “Of course. As soon as we finish eating.” 

Remus lets out a little sigh and nods his head in response, his eyes downcast towards his food. 

They continue their meal in relative silence and once Remus places his empty bowl on the coffee table Sirius summons his healer kit from the bathroom to get to work on Remus’s shoulder. When Remus removes his shirt Sirius suddenly gets a new understanding as to why Remus may have been extra insistent earlier about doing this himself. Remus has always been scarred, his body marred and marked, but this is different, far more intense than the last time that Sirius had seen him in such a vulnerable state. There are new scars on him that were clearly inflicted by another in the almost year that has passed since they endured a moon together, places that Remus in wolf form could never reach. Sirius can’t help himself as he gently trails his fingers down the length of a claw mark that stripes Remus’s back from mid shoulder blade to hip. Remus shudders under his fingertips. 

“Sorry,” Sirius says lightly, not sure if he’s apologizing for touching him along this mark, or sorry that the mark exists at all, but likely both. 

“It’s okay,” Remus sighs. “You were bound to see it eventually.”

“It’s not so bad,” Sirius tries to reassure.

“It’s awful,” Remus bitterly laughs. “Can you just get this one cleaned up on my shoulder?”

“As you wish,” Sirius says, trying to sound a little jovial, hoping to lighten the mood. He wets a cloth and firmly presses it to Remus’s shoulder, using a fair bit of pressure to aid in the healing and cleaning. “Press your hand on this,” he directs Remus, helping him press his palm over the cloth. Now that both of his hands are free he grabs a thick piece of gauze and pours a bit of murtlap on it. “You can let go now,” he says to Remus then peels and tosses the cloth away from the wound before he points his wand toward the torn flesh and mutters a few quick mending charms. As the skin starts to knit itself back together Sirius places the gauze over it, then tapes it down, letting the murtlap soothe the wound and help prevent infection. “There, that should do it.” 

“Thanks,” Remus says and starts to put his shirt back on. 

“Wait.” Sirius stops him with one hand and grabs his hooded sweatshirt from the hook by the door behind him with the other. “Put this on instead.” 

Remus nods and smiles softly, then much to Sirius’s pleasure, allows him to help him put it on. Just like the last time Sirius helped Remus into this sweatshirt, Remus’s cheeks are flushed prettily once it’s on. He catches Sirius’s gaze, locking him in a moment full of feelings that Sirius can’t quite place that exist somewhere between his heart and his ribcage. Remus settles in again against the back of the sofa, and Sirius keeps his eyes upon him as he sits back as well. 

Once he’s sure that Remus is comfortable, Sirius reluctantly looks away from Remus and focuses his attention onto Dr. Who playing on the telly. He’s trying to follow the plot line, laughing to himself at the imaginative nature of it all. He’s about to ask Remus to explain to him what’s going on when he feels Remus’s body fall heavily against his side. He looks towards him—Remus is fast asleep. Sirius adjusts himself and wraps his arm around Remus’s shoulders to let him lie more securely against him. It’s not until he turns his attention back to the telly that he realizes he’s just placed three gentle kisses into Remus’s curls.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite the whirlwind of confusion the three light kisses that Sirius placed into Remus’s hair had brought the night before, he had still managed to fall asleep with the smell of Remus in his nose and the radiating warmth of Remus’s body nestled against his side on the sofa. He’s somewhere in that semi-dreamlike state of living, halfway between being awake and asleep when he realizes that he must have shifted them at some point in the night to lie down. His eyes are still closed, his body heavy and lethargic, and completely at ease with the feel of Remus’s arm draped across his chest and his light breaths tickling Sirius’s collarbone while he sleeps. 

Just like the night before Sirius’s body seems to work on instinct alone without any direction from Sirius, and begins to run a hand lazily up and down Remus’s side. It’s been forever and a day since he’s done anything like this. He and Marlene hadn't lasted long after graduation and he’d never invited any of his Muggle girlfriends over nor accepted their invitations to stay the night at their places. In fact, the only person Sirius has ever had any regularity sleeping beside is the one who’s in his arms currently, though this feels significantly different than waking up in the shack next to him, and inches if not feet away from one another after the full moon, or in either of their four poster dorm beds after a late night whispered chat when one or the other couldn’t sleep, or drunken escapades that ended with Remus needing a place to crash. 

Sirius explains the intimacy of this moment away to the fact that they are crammed together on a sofa that is too small for him alone, let alone him and Remus together. He furthers that explanation with Remus needing, though Remus won’t admit it, a little more care after his first full moon weathered with Sirius in close to a year instead of the man Remus hates most in the world and the rest of his victims. Surely that’s more than enough reason for Remus—always the gentlest and most mild mannered of the marauders—to seek out extra comfort and reassurance. And Sirius has never been one to deny Remus anything, so of course he would oblige him with a cuddle to help him sleep. 

The only problem with that logic is that it doesn’t explain away why Sirius had slept so deeply, or why he finds himself wanting to kiss Remus awake, not just by kissing his curls, but by kissing his forehead, each of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and his full pout that Sirius can’t stop staring at. He has to stop himself from thumbing that pout, from tilting Remus’s sleeping face up by his chin so that Sirius can look at him more fully, so he can see the way his lashes rest atop his cheeks. And all of this clashes with the arousal that Sirius is feeling in his lower belly when Remus shifts beside him and squeezes Sirius’s torso firmer with his arm. But even that, Sirius reasons, is due to being locked in this flat with Remus and Remus alone and his lack of going out and chasing the proverbial tail. He is, after all, a man of nineteen years of age, he has needs that this lockdown prevents from being met. 

It’s the obvious proof of those needs creating a stiff ridge in the loose front of his grey sweatpants that drives Sirius to begin to try and extricate himself out from under Remus. He’s almost off the couch when he hears Remus stir and feels Remus’s skinny arm wind its way around Sirius’s waist. 

“Where are you going?” Remus mumbles, his voice muffled by the fabric of the sofa. 

“Time to get up, Moony,” Sirius says reluctantly, which does surprise him. He’d much rather lie back down, whether awake or asleep with Remus tucked at his side, than get up and go about his day. Not that there is anything to do, and even more concerning, not that there is anything acceptable about him wanting to have a lie in cuddled up with one of his best friends. 

The reality of this odd, yet intimate positioning seems to have hit Remus as he suddenly untangles his arm from around Sirius’s waist and abruptly sits up and shuffles to the other end of the sofa, his curls sleep mussed, his knees pulled into his chest, and his fingertips peeking out of the cuffs of Sirius’s too large on him sweatshirt. The sight of which makes Sirius want to do nothing more than scoop Remus up into his arms and deposit him onto his lap. Instead, he rubs his hands down his thighs to dry the sweat that has collected on his palms then rises to his feet.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” he says, turning slightly away from Remus to allow him to adjust himself out of full view of his friend. The same friend who’s caused this mild arousal—as well as his blooming affection—he is feeling in the first place. He looks over his shoulder at Remus who has gone quite pale. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” Remus says and shakes his head. He rakes a hand through his curls and looks up at Sirius pleadingly as if he is looking for an answer, though Sirius doesn’t know to what or if he even has anything to offer him if he did. Remus bites his lower lip and looks away, then softly mutters something about making breakfast.

Once out of the shower—washed, wanked, and slightly less confused than he was upon waking—Sirius reemerges from the bathroom to find Remus at work in the kitchen, scooping ladles full of batter into a muffin tin Sirius doesn’t remember owning. The tea kettle begins to whistle on the stove top and Sirius rushes over to switch the burner off and take over the task of fixing the tea. 

Sirius has to reach over and around Remus to get the mugs and he’s suddenly struck with the reality of how tiny and cramped the flat’s kitchen is. It’s never felt so small, and when he places his hand onto Remus’s back to alert him that he’s stepping into his space he feels a surge of something similar to magic shoot up his palm. He keeps his hand pressed there, his fingers stretching and spreading wide, and he hesitates to pull it away once he’s grabbed what he needs from the cabinet. 

It’s like this morning all over again—Remus eliciting urges and needs out of Sirius that he’s never felt before. And most troubling, or perhaps comforting, is that he wants more. He wants these simple and unknown pleasures that Remus is pulling out of him to become a constant part of his life. He’s mesmerized by whatever this magic is that Remus seems to hold and wield. 

“Sirius,” Remus laughs. “What are you doing?”

“Hmm?” Sirius drops his ear towards his shoulder and looks at Remus genuinely confused.

“I can’t put these muffins into the oven with you standing there blocking my way,” he laughs again causing one of his curls to fall enticingly forward, brushing at the corner of Remus’s eye. 

Sirius reaches for it and places it back where it belongs into the nest of Remus’s hair, before blushing, apologizing, and moving out of Remus’s way.

_____

It’s not just the kitchen that seems to have shrunk in size to Sirius. For as slight in stature that Remus is, Remus seems to occupy every corner of the flat—in a far different way than James ever had. James was messy, careless with where he placed his things, and always accumulating more and more. Remus’s full take over of the flat is much less tangible. 

Outside of the balcony garden and the house plants he tends to, which Sirius rather enjoys the effects of—making the place lighter of air and far less boy-esque in smell—Remus hasn’t moved much into the flat. His bedroom is mostly furnished with James’s old bedframe and bureau, the drawers of which are only half filled with the scant amount of clothing that Remus even owns. Sirius, much to his own surprised pleasure is slowly filling in the empty drawers. ‘Lending’ but more accurately _ giving _ Remus little bits and pieces from his own ample wardrobe that he thinks Remus would enjoy for himself. Starting with, of course, the hooded sweatshirt that used to reside rather uselessly on the hook by the door. 

The same sweatshirt, in fact, that Remus is pushing the sleeves up on for what Sirius has counted as the fourth time as he writes in his journal while sitting on the floor crossed legged in a pair of Gryffindor red shorts and hunched over the coffee table. Sirius’s cheeks which are pulled up into a considerably dopey smile, are starting to burn at the sight of his friend as he scribbles his thoughts away. 

Remus lifts his pen off the page, bites at the end of it, then catches Sirius’s eyes from where Sirius is sitting staring at him, pretending to be flipping through records. He startles when he realizes that Sirius is already looking his way and drops his gaze back to his journal, but all he’s managed to do is pique more of Sirius’s interest. 

“Did you want to pick the next record?” Sirius asks, half out of embarrassment of being caught staring at his friend, and half wanting to make sure that Remus gets to listen to something, anything, that will keep him here in this room writing away on the pages of his journal mere feet from Sirius. 

“Yeah,” Remus muses and switches from biting his pen to biting his lower lip as he thinks. His eyes look mischievous and his cheeks seem to glow, highlighting his freckles before he speaks. “Will you put on Joy Division?”

Sirius nods yes enthusiastically and pulls  _ Unknown Pleasures  _ from the pile of records. He’d known Remus would love the new and relatively obscure band from Manchester the moment he’d heard them play at a small Muggle club while out on patrols with James a few months ago. Their unique style drew Sirius in and he was instantly enthralled, making him desperately wish Remus was with him that night instead of James who’d just complained about the noise. 

“Thanks,” Remus says and begins to scribble away again in his journal, his serene smile only slightly hidden under the shadow of his curls.

“I knew you’d like them,” Sirius says confidently, happy to have been able to introduce Remus to something new. 

“Not just like!” Remus exclaims, lifting his head again, his eyes alight. “I love them. It’s like they wrote this for me! Though they obviously didn’t.” He laughs to himself and ducks his head again.

“You never know,” Sirius says thoughtfully. “We live in a world of literal magic. I don’t think it’s too otherworldly to think that maybe this album could’ve been meant for you.”

“I think the magic of good music is that it makes everyone feel like a particular song or album was meant just for them.”

Sirius smiles softly at the thought, his mind swirling with music he’s convinced was in fact for him at times. “I hope you’re writing that thought down.”

“What? My thoughts on music? Oh no. That’s nothing.”

“No. It’s something,” Sirius encourages. 

Remus looks up at him through his curls and from underneath his lashes, his lips cock to the side in an inquisitive smirk before he looks back down onto his journal, flips the page and hastily writes down his musings as they listen to the melodies. 

They’re five songs in,  _ New Dawn Fades,  _ when a large barn owl swoops in through the open balcony doors with a hoot and drops a letter onto the coffee table beside Remus. It perches itself on his shoulder and looks expectantly at Remus, then flicks its eyes to the letter, then back at Remus again. 

Sirius frowns, recognizing the green ink and tight scrawl of Albus Dumbledore on the parchment. “I thought you were done with missions,” Sirius says, his voice kicking up in alarm that he fails to choke down. He cranes his neck to try and look over the edge of the letter as Remus reads it. 

“It says he has new intelligence about Greyback he needs me to confirm,” Remus says, his voice solemn and his face fallen into resignation. 

“Tell him no!” Sirius exclaims. “You don’t have to answer his beck and call.” 

“I don’t have a choice Sirius!”

“You always have a choice!”

“No, I don’t and  _ you  _ know that!”

“Yes  _ you  _ do, Remus! Just tell him no,” Sirius pleads, desperate for Remus to do anything but leave the flat for something as potentially dangerous and devastating as going anywhere near Greyback again. 

“It’s not that simple, Sirius. I owe him.” Remus’s voice breaks at the end of his statement. 

“Not with your life you don’t.” 

“It’s just not that simple,” Remus repeats and rises to his feet with a sigh. Sirius rises as well and strides over to Remus, lightly grabbing his shoulder. Remus looks at Sirius’s hand then slowly moves his gaze to catch Sirius’s, his eyes pleading. “Please Sirius, I don’t want to argue about this.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Sirius says softly and wraps his arms around Remus. He presses hard enough that even the heavy fabric of the hooded sweatshirt can’t mask the feel of Remus’s raised scar on his back that Sirius had only discovered a few days previous. 

Remus tries to squirm out of Sirius’s hold. “Sirius, I have to go.” 

“I know,” Sirius says and loosens his grip, but Remus pauses, he angles his head to look up at Sirius instead of extricating himself from Sirius’s loosened hold. Without thinking, Sirius dips down, his lips hovering a hair's breadth above Remus’s. His mind catches up with his body and he stops himself from closing the gap. His eyes read a glimpse of hesitation from Remus before Remus shuts his eyes, rises onto the balls of his feet and softly presses their lips together, then turns on his heel within the loose enclosure of Sirius’s arms, breaks through his hands and quickly strides out of the room and onto the balcony, disapparating with a  _ pop _ having not even looked over his shoulder.


	5. Chapter 5

Sirius turns over on the sofa, presses his back against the cushions, and hugs his extra pillow closer to his chest. Well, it’s Remus’s extra pillow actually, as he had pulled it from Remus’s bed last night before attempting to fall asleep on the sofa for the third night in a row. 

Night one, he tried to sleep in his own bed, but fearing that he’d miss Remus’s return, he moved to the sofa where he has been residing ever since, tossing and turning and most of all, worrying. He’d tried to pretend things were completely normal, that he was completely fine, that his world hadn’t been completely upended by Remus’s hasty departure, before finally accepting that wasn’t the case and giving over to his mind waffling between worrying about where Remus was, replaying the light kiss that Remus had placed onto his lips moments before he left on what was likely a dangerous and potentially ill-fated mission, and the fact that Sirius was overcome with regret of not having clutched onto Remus tighter and kissing him back more soundly instead of watching uselessly as Remus ran out and disapparated for what Sirius fears could have been the last time. And worst of all, Sirius thinks, is that Remus is likely regretting kissing Sirius, figuring that he has made some huge mistake. 

A part of Sirius has always known that Remus might have been holding a candle for him. It’s not the first time that he’s felt some sort of shared moment with Remus—a lingering glance, a prolonged touch, a vague proclamation of feelings left unrequited with no specific name attached. Though Sirius had always had his suspicions that the unspoken name was his and he’d just been too thick to realize that perhaps he could feel the same way. 

There isn’t a handbook for these types of things. How does one decipher the feelings that develop between two people who have been friends since they were eleven? How does one realize that the way they feel for one friend means something completely different than the way they feel for another? Sirius has always been soft for Remus, has always felt a pull to be near him, to keep him close, to wait for him to be near again. Sure, he’s never felt that way about James or Peter, but the two of them don’t have the struggles or circumstances in their lives that Sirius has to pay attention to, to keep in mind at all times. Their lives are normal and most disasters that they have can be fixed up with a healing charm and a good day’s rest, and that’s on the off chance that whatever they have gotten themselves into one cannot throw galleons at to fix. 

And it’s not as if Sirius is the only one. He knows that James and Peter have the same worries and keep an extra watchful eye on Remus as well. How was he supposed to realize that their attentiveness didn’t also come with an extra stirring in their bellies? Looking back now, he supposes that this intensity that he has felt for so long for his friend is more similar to how James feels about Lily, to how Peter feels about Mary, and less about how they feel for each other. To make matters worse he can’t even talk to either of them to see if his suspicions regarding his feelings for Remus are correct. For one, outside of an owl, he has no way to contact James or Peter as the flat has no fireplace for the Floo network, nor do either of them know how to work a telephone, despite living with Muggle born witches. Furthermore, Remus has always been the friend that is best to talk to when trying to work out complicated feelings, but he’s not here, nor does Sirius even begin to know how to ask Remus to explain to him what it feels like to be in love with another man. 

It’s not until Sirius has this thought that he realizes that it’s true. That the ache he feels in his chest at Remus’s absence and the subsequent warmth he feels when he is near can only be explained by love. He loves Remus fully. And now he’s in a state of complete disarray because he may have realized it a split second too late. 

He flips over again and clutches the pillow even tighter to his chest as he dips his nose into the fabric. Any lingering doubts that he was having regarding his all encompassing feelings for Remus are instantly abated when he’s met with a waft of Remus’s scent that sends a tingle straight to his cock, making it twitch. “Fuck,” he mutters to the pillow in his arms. Is it not enough that he’s just admitted to himself that he is in love with one of his best friends? Does he really need to indulge in a wank about him as well? 

He lets out an exasperated sigh as he flips onto his back and feels his cock rise and strain against the fabric of his sweatpants. His cheeks flush hot and an image of Remus’s full, pink bottom lip flashes across his mind. He thinks about what that lip—silky soft and full—would feel like gliding along the underside of his cock and he audibly whimpers as he reaches into his pants and begins to give his cock a few light strokes. 

That’s all it takes to get his mind moving into overdrive, filling in the blanks of his fantasies. Late night and often mildly drunken conversations remembered with Remus helping to supplement the experiences that he’s unfamiliar with. He can quickly recall hearing Remus talk in vague details about the ways he likes to be with a man, giving Sirius just enough detail at the time to keep the conversation casual and comfortable between friends. Just two blokes swapping stories of their sexual fumblings. What difference did it make that Sirius’s were with a woman and Remus’s were with a man? 

When Remus had come out to him, James, and Peter on the first night back from summer holidays at the beginning of sixth year he’d sworn, just like he had when Remus’s other secret came to light, that this would change nothing between them. And largely, it hasn’t, until right now as Sirius comes hot and thick all over his belly and his fist with thoughts of Remus’s legs wound tightly around his torso. 

“Fuck,” he says to himself again as he pulls his sticky hand from inside his sweatpants. He wipes it on the fabric then gets off of the sofa to go clean himself up properly and put on some fresh clothes. 

Not that it matters, not that he needs to look good for anyone, as he’s locked in this flat with nothing but his thoughts and longing for Remus to keep him company. 

_____

Stepping out of the shower and feeling only marginally better and still off-balance from his sudden realization and acceptance of his feelings for Remus, Sirius strides to the kitchen, hoping a warmed up plate of what’s left of Remus’s cooking will be enough to settle his nerves in the places his shower couldn’t. He’s opening the ice box door when he hears a gentle yet persistent tapping on the nearby window. Recognizing the source immediately as James’s eagle owl, he opens the window and relieves the bird of the message it’s carrying. 

_Losing my mind and needing to get out. Meet me at the pub where Lily first kissed me and you got two drinks tossed on you by those twins the summer before seventh year._

Sirius huffs a laugh at the memory, then feels a warmth bloom through his chest at the subsequent memory. James was lip locked with Lily when it had happened, but Remus had witnessed the whole thing and promptly ushered Sirius away from the girls and into the men's loo to cast a drying charm on Sirius as well as laugh in his face at his inability to realize that the two Muggle girls he’d been chatting up all night were, in fact, twins—identical in every way except for one, they were dressed completely different and yet somehow Sirius had spent the night flirting away under the delusion that they were the same person. In retrospect it had worked out for the best though, as Sirius had then spent the rest of the night getting properly drunk with Remus and sharing his bed back at Potter Manor with him. They’d laughed the next morning at how drunk they must have been the night before to have woken up still fully clothed above the covers, but spooned together nonetheless. It strikes Sirius now that perhaps that was no accident. 

James is waiting inside at a high table near the back with two pints and two shots of whiskey when Sirius walks through the doors. He knocks over his barstool as he rises in his excitement for Sirius’s arrival, his eyes wide but also visibly ringed dark, likely from lack of sleep. 

“Good Godric, it’s good to see you,” James says and pulls Sirius into a brotherly hug, thumping him three times on his back before he releases him. “I’m going fucking crazy being cooped up. Had to get out. Lily’s had just about enough of me. Finally told me to get out of her hair for an hour.” He pauses and quirks up an eyebrow thoughtfully. “Though now that I think about it, she might’ve meant for me to find a different room to hang out in.” He shrugs. “Oh well, now I’m here. How are you and Moony doing?”

Sirius’s heart skips a beat at the sound of James grouping him and Remus together, even if James is unaware of the implication. For his and Remus’s well being to be questioned in the same breath makes him feel strangely confident in what they could be together if he can get this right. That maybe it’s not such a stretch and that to someone like James it’ll be a totally natural and completely understandable, if not a predictable occurrence. 

“Good. I’m in love with him,” Sirius finally says at the same moment James says, “Lily’s pregnant. We’re getting married next month.”

Sirius is stunned by both his confession and James’s. 

“Ummmm…. what?” James questions slowly. 

“Nothing,” Sirius says and downs one of the shots of whiskey. “So…. Lily’s pregnant?” Sirius prods to change the subject. “How’d that happen?”

“Well I think you know _how_ it happened,” James says pointedly. “The more important question is _how_ did you and Moony happen?”

“We haven’t happened,” Sirius begins to explain, as James signals for the barkeep to send them two more shots of whiskey. “I’ve only just figured it out.”

“So you’re gay now?”

“I don’t know!” Sirius exclaims. “Bi more like. Is that all you’re getting out of this?” 

“I’m getting _a lot_ out of this,” James smirks.

“I just confessed to you that I’m in love with one of our other best mates and all you’ve got is jokes,” Sirius accuses as the barkeep drops off two more shots and raises his eyebrow questioningly and perhaps a bit judgmentally at Sirius. “Oh, bugger off,” he snaps and slams the shot. 

“Two more,” James mouths and nods as he holds up two fingers at the barkeep, then turns his attention back to Sirius. “Ok. I can see you’re in some sort of distress here. Gotta be honest, I was counting on you to talk me off the ledge of my own plight tonight. Just a bit surprised to have you do it so spectacularly. So what happened?” 

“Like I said, nothing happened. Well, he kissed me, but that’s not why this happened.”

“He kissed you!?!” James eyebrows rise comically high. “Remus, our Moony, kissed you? Why!?”

“I’m not sure he meant to, he ran off right after.”

“What do you mean ‘ran off’. Where is he?” James drops his voice in concern, all humor and amusement at Sirius’s proclamation dropped. 

“Dumbledore summoned him for a mission. I didn’t want him to go, we argued about it and then had… a moment… and he kissed me,” Sirius’s voice trails off and he takes a sip of his pint. 

“Ok, one, I know Moony, it would take more than just _one_ moment for him to do something as potentially reckless and friendship ruining as kissing you. That’s a _you_ move, not a Moony move. And two, what the actual FUCK, Sirius! You just let Remus run off on a mission for Dumbledore!? I thought he was done with that.”

“So did I.” Sirius brings his hands to his face and rubs harshly at his cheeks and eyes. “And so did Remus. I tried to get him to stay, but you know how he is.”

“Hmph,” James lets out a grunt of agreement around the rim of his pint. “Do you know where he was sent?”

“No.”

“Do you know when he’s coming back?”

“No.”

“Do you know what you’re going to do when he comes back?”

“Kiss him again hopefully,” Sirius says, averting his eyes from James and hiding his rising blush behind his pint. 

“Good for you, Padfoot. I’m happy for you. Just don’t, you know, fuck this up.” James shrugs.

“Believe me, I don’t want to.”

“I know you don’t,” James assures, the genuineness in his voice causes Sirius to look back at him. “And honestly, now that you’ve said it, it actually makes a lot of sense.”

“How so?” 

“It’s just, you’ve always been different towards him. I can’t quite explain it, it’s just—”

“Softer,” Sirius fills in. 

“Exactly,” James agrees and raises his pint to Sirius.

_____

What time it is when Sirius comes stumbling through the balcony doors of his and Remus’s flat is anyone's guess. Though the sight Sirius is met with, Remus wrapped in Sirius’s sweatshirt, his thin legs bent at the knee and poking out of a pair of red shorts on the sofa reading a book makes time stand still anyway. Remus looks up from the pages nervously and bites at his lip, his eyes wide and pleading with Sirius, though Sirius can’t imagine why. 

“You’re home!” Sirius exclaims and comes bounding over to the sofa, tackling Remus into the cushions, and nosing into his neck. 

“And you’re drunk,” Remus laughs and lets out an audible sigh of relief. “Good thing you left the note from James on the counter. Gave me a right scare when I came home to an empty flat.” 

“Give you a scare? I’ve been a mess worrying about you,” Sirius confesses, his face buried deep into the crook of Remus’s neck where he’s able to breathe in Remus’s obviously freshly washed skin, his homemade grapefruit and vanilla scented soap wafting around him. 

“Sirius.” Remus squirms and laughs joyfully, trying to push Sirius off of him but Sirius is not about to let him go that easily. “You’re tickling me!”

“Keep squirming like that and tickling is not the only thing I’ll be doing to you,” Sirius grunts and wriggles his arms under Remus’s body to hold him closer. Remus whimpers between laughs as Sirius’s long fingers find and prod around Remus’s ribs, making him buck up against Sirius’s body. They both freeze at the feel of Remus’s hardening cock brushing against Sirius’s hip bone. 

Sirius lifts his head away from Remus’s neck and looks at him hungrily. When Remus, though blushing furiously, doesn’t look away, Sirius brings his lips to Remus’s and kisses him soundly. He slides one hand up Remus’s back and out from under him to grab a hold of the back of Remus’s neck, winding his fingers through Remus’s soft and silky curls. 

When Remus opens his mouth, a slight gasp escaping his lips before he slowly runs his tongue along Sirius’s upper lip, Sirius pushes and dives in further, letting himself have a full lick and taste of Remus, and it’s more intoxicating than the whiskey he was sharing with James not even an hour ago. Unlike the whiskey, Remus comes with a promise of some sort of relief, and he’s not just talking about his cock which is rock hard and searching for any form of friction. It’s his aching heart that is finally unclenching at being near Remus again, receiving the most from this moment. He lays down heavier atop Remus and ruts against Remus’s leg, getting himself a split second of physical satisfaction that is not nearly enough to quench his needs. 

“Sirius,” Remus pleads, pulling his lips from Sirius’s. “We can’t.”

“We can,” Sirius replies, bringing their lips back together, and rutting against Remus again at a maddeningly slow pace as he’s still trapped within the confines of his clothes. 

Remus it would seem, takes pity on him, and gives himself over to the experience and situation at hand. Sirius feels him reach with nimble fingers between the both of them and make short work of unbuttoning Sirius’s trousers and pulling them, along with his briefs, off of his hips and over the rounds of his ass. Sirius wants to do the same for Remus, but he feels Remus wiggling out of his shorts underneath him before he gets a chance, the sensation alone being near enough to throw Sirius over the edge in his excitement to experience Remus in this way. 

He moans against Remus’s lips when he feels Remus bring his hand to their cocks and hold them together. His grip is light, yet steady enough to keep their cocks side-by-side and allow for their foreskin and combined accumulation of precum to help them glide scintillatingly against one another with each of Sirius’s thrusts into Remus’s waiting hand. 

The feel of Remus subtly lifting and dropping his hips in time with him and following the rhythm of Sirius’s strokes increases the pleasure and soon Sirius begins to feel his toes curl, his stomach tingle, and his balls lift up and tighten. He sucks in a breath and moans Remus’s name against Remus’s lips as he comes, hot and thick and all over Remus’s belly. He feels Remus stiffen up and squeeze his fist tighter around their cocks, bringing Remus over the edge as well. He slows and ruts and rides out his orgasm with his cock still rubbing against Remus’s, both of them seemingly melting into the cushions of the sofa while their collective releases blend and pool together between them on their skin. 

“Fuck,” Sirius mutters with a heavy relieved breath, his mind going foggy with the complete ecstasy of having been with Remus. He’s overcome by it and can’t contain himself as his arms wrap tightly around Remus again, pulling him into his body, wanting to hold him there forever in the aggression he’s experiencing with the intensity of his feelings at this moment. 

“Sirius,” Remus says quietly, if not a bit pained. “You’re squishing me.”

“Sorry,” Sirius says and loosens his grip, then rolls off of Remus and falls to the side, attempting to take Remus to lie with him, but Remus wriggles free and rises to his feet. “Where are you going?”

“To clean myself up,” Remus says, and Sirius thinks he senses a bit of annoyance in his voice. 

“You’ll come back though, right?” Sirius asks as he wipes the remnants of their shared blissed away with the hem of his shirt before he sits and pulls it off entirely. 

Remus looks away. “I think we should go to bed.”

“Alright,” Sirius agrees. “Mine or yours?”

Remus looks over his shoulder at Sirius, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Sirius, please don’t joke right now.”

“I’m not joking,” Sirius says earnestly.

“You’re just drunk Sirius. You’ll feel differently in the morning.” 

“I won’t,” Sirius tries to plead, panicked and unsure of what it is he could’ve done wrong that could cause this abrupt turn in Remus’s demeanor. 

“Trust me, you will. I know you,” Remus says dejectedly and leaves the room, leaving Sirius with nothing but his thoughts and a replaying loop of what just happened between them floating through his mind. 

_____

The following morning Sirius wakes with a splitting headache—more from a night of fitful sleep than the few shots of whiskey he’d downed with James—and the sounds of Remus moving about the flat. He smells the bergamot of the tea Remus must have brewed and only opens his eyes once he hears the distinct sound of a mug being placed onto a hardwood surface. It’s only then that he realizes that he must have fallen asleep on the sofa during his post coital reeling that had him spiraling all night, trying to decipher what it is that Remus could’ve meant by ‘he knows him’.

How much can Remus possibly know him when Sirius has only just now discovered this part of himself? This part that is capable of not just being attracted to his best friend, but to also be in love with him. He thought that he had made that clear last night when they had come together on the very same sofa that Sirius is currently squished and cramped on and watching Remus retreat from where he had just placed a cup of tea on the coffee table for Sirius.

“Thanks,” Sirius mutters, his voice still gruff from disuse while sleeping. 

“You’re welcome,” Remus says without looking over his shoulder as he continues to head down the hall. “I’ll bring you a Pepper-Up as well. I’m sure you could use one. You were properly pissed when you got home last night.” 

“I wasn’t that drunk,” Sirius argues back as he begins to sit up, then grabs the mug of tea. He smiles to himself when he sees that it is expertly prepared just the way he likes it—no sugar, but a splash of milk.

“You definitely were,” Remus says across the flat, barely audible from the bathroom. “It’s the only explanation.”

“Only explanation?!” Sirius exclaims and winces as his own loud voice has managed to make his head pound a little harder. Okay, maybe he was a little bit drunk last night, he has to admit to himself, but not drunk enough to make what happened between them unreal. He’d wanted to be with Remus, he still wants to be with Remus. He wants to rise off of this sofa, run to the bathroom, press Remus against the wall and kiss him deeply, though something in his gut tells him that may not be the best idea. But he has no clue what the best idea could possibly be. 

“Yes,” Remus says as he reappears, a vial of Pepper-Up Potion in his hand. “You don’t have to pretend that it was anything more. It was a drunken mistake. It’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it. In fact, I’d prefer it if we didn’t.”

Sirius, stunned, takes the Pepper-Up out of Remus’s hand as he shakes it at him, then downs it in one gulp. “But I wasn’t that drunk, Remus. I swear,” Sirius pleads. “I wanted it. I wanted you. I have for quite some time now.”

“You’re just bored, Sirius,” Remus says with a roll of his eyes. “And likely horny. It’s been how long since you’ve pulled?”

“That has nothing to do with what happened last night,” Sirius tries to explain.

“It has everything to do with what happened last night. Godric Sirius, you’re not even gay.” 

“How do you know I’m not?”

Remus fixes Sirius with a look. “Have you ever been attracted to a man before?”

“Yeah, you. I thought that was obvious.”

“Being drunk and horny doesn’t make you gay, Sirius,” Remus sighs, and rolls his eyes again as he turns on his heel to walk towards the kitchen.

“I was thinking more along the lines of bi,” Sirius tries, grasping at anything, and the words rolling off of his tongue seem to fit.

“Fine,” Remus concedes. “I’ll give you bi, as you did seem into it last night. But as soon as we’re allowed out of this flat again you’ll go back to chasing tail like it’s your full-time job, a night of drunkenly humping your friend long forgotten.”

“I wasn’t that drunk!” Sirius argues again. “In fact, I was practically sober. I _wanted_ to be with you.”

“Maybe so, but that’s likely to change,” Remus says dejectedly. “And I’d rather us not ruin our friendship.”

“Then why did you kiss me?”

Remus stops in his tracks and visibly stiffens, his skinny shoulders pulling up to his ears. “I didn’t.”

“You did,” Sirius says softly and rises from the sofa. He takes a few tentative strides over to where Remus is standing, approaching as if he doesn’t want to startle him. 

“That was a mistake,” Remus whispers and brings both hands to his face, his back still to Sirius. 

“It wasn’t.” Sirius brings a hesitant hand to Remus’s back. 

“It was,” Remus repeats and shrugs away from Sirius. Sirius’s heart falls. Never had he expected Remus to regret what was happening between them, especially when he had been so sure that Remus wanted it too. Remus looks over his shoulder at Sirius, his eyes wet, wide and large with their pleading. “Can we just please drop it?”

“Alright.” Sirius nods and stops himself from reaching out for Remus while his heart sinks through the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

Sirius forgot what it was like to be on the receiving end of Remus’s obstinacy. To be the one who had to live alongside Remus when he was pretending that nothing had changed, that something major hadn’t occurred between them. 

The only other time he had experienced it so directly was after Sirius’s ill-fated prank. The one that could’ve resulted in Snape’s death, Sirius’s expulsion, and the outing of Remus’s lycanthropic status—but luckily only resulted in James’s being thrust into the position of a hero. 

Just like how Remus had been years ago when Sirius had tried profusely to apologize, convinced he’d destroyed one of the most precious things in the world to him—his friendship with Remus. Remus had simply asked him to drop it, just like he asked Sirius to drop the discussion of what was undeniably, at least from Sirius’s point of view, going on between them the other morning after they’d shagged. Then, with Remus’s personal brand of resilience, one that’s only brought on by a lifetime of shit happenstance, Remus managed to carry on as if nothing had happened, as if everything was normal, a carefully crafted facade of a completely peaceful, albeit melancholic, existence. An existence that Remus has been currently residing in for the better part of two weeks despite Sirius’s best efforts to get him not to. 

Sirius moves about the kitchen as has become his habit, cleaning up the dishes after eating the meticulously crafted meal Remus had prepared for the two of them. “No need to get up,” he says, placing a gentle hand onto Remus’s warm shoulder to keep him seated at the table. “I’ve got this, it’s the least I can do.”

“Thanks,” Remus says, even after living in avoidance for days he’s unfailingly polite, and oh so enticing as he looks up at Sirius from below his flopped forward curls. “So, she’s pregnant?”

“Yep,” Sirius confirms excitedly, relieved to finally be having a proper conversation with Remus after remembering to tell him James and Lily’s news. “And to think I got branded as the reckless one.” 

“Well, that’s not a wrong label. You _are_ reckless. Not knock someone up during lockdown reckless, but reckless nonetheless.”

“Excuse you,” Sirius accuses looking over his shoulder from the kitchen sink. “Impulsive yes, but not reckless.” 

“Really?” Remus asks challengingly. “And what about the time you nearly set the Quidditch pitch on fire with miniaturized jet engines on broomsticks?”

“That wasn’t just me!” Sirius laughs heartily at the memory. “And that would’ve worked had we had the proper fuel.” 

“Charming suits of armor to recite poetry on Valentine’s Day in sixth year and accidentally landing yourself three dates for that evening instead of getting James even one date with Lily as intended.”

“Just a typical bit of fun! And besides, James got Lily in the end.” Sirius turns and winks at Remus. 

“Alright, the waterbed incident. You nearly flooded the Shrieking Shack!”

“Ok,” Sirius bursts out laughing. “First of all, that was James! And second, no one got hurt.”

“Wormtail nearly drowned,” Remus points out.

“Rats are naturally good swimmers.”

“True, but his human form is not. That boy sinks like a stone,” Remus says knowingly from beside Sirius, then surprises Sirius even more by placing a hand on his forearm that Sirius immediately focuses his gaze on before letting his eyes travel up Remus’s arm to his shoulder, then across his collarbone, up his neck, jaw and cheeks until they finally settle on his eyes. Remus softens his gaze, humor leaving his face and he stares intently back at Sirius. “Becoming an illegal animagus to run around with a werewolf during full moons.”

“More than worth the risk,” Sirius says gently and he hopes that Remus captures the full meaning—that Remus, no matter what, will always be more important than consequences to Sirius. 

Remus removes his hand from Sirius’s forearm and ducks his head, an unmistakable blush blossoming on his cheeks. Sirius quickly dries a hand on his shirt then brings his fingertips to lightly tilt Remus’s jaw, guiding him to look back at Sirius. “Falling for my best friend,” he says now that he has Remus’s full attention. 

“Sirius,” Remus sighs. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” Sirius says, still holding Remus to face him. He spreads his fingers out wide, his thumb gently rubbing across Remus’s cheekbone. He holds his breath when he feels Remus lean heavier against his palm, his eyes fluttering closed. Sirius, unable to stop himself, begins to dip down and is just about to press his lips to Remus’s when an owl swoops in through the window and lands on Remus’s shoulder, kicking out its leg, the corner of its carried message brushing against Sirius’s jaw. 

He lets out a heavy sigh and pulls away, his heart beginning to race once he realizes it's one the barn owls that belongs to Hogwarts and not James’s eagle owl as he’d been hoping. “Fuck,” he mutters as Remus removes the letter. “Lemme guess. Dumbledore needs you,” Sirius spits.

Remus doesn’t even speak, he just lightly nods his yes. 

“Right in time for the moon as well I see. What is it? In three days?”

“Saturday,” Remus sighs. 

Sirius, of course, already knew the answer. He’s kept meticulous track over the waxing and waning of the moon for nearly eight years now. “And when does the old kook want you to leave?”

“Right now,” Remus says regretfully.

“Stay,” Sirius pleads. “I lo—”

“Sirius, please don’t. It’s just going to make this worse.”

“Then you better go,” Sirius says and steels himself, running a frustrated hand through his hair as he watches Remus step out onto the balcony and disappear again with a pop. 

_____

Sirius closes the ice box door harshly with his heel as he pulls out the last plate of leftovers from before Remus had left three days earlier. Any hope that Sirius has been holding onto that Remus will be returning home for the full moon, which is rising quickly, is gone. His stomach turns at the thought in a way it hasn’t ages. It feels like that first full moon after finding out Remus’s secret all over again. Except this time he doesn’t have the naivety of a twelve year old to keep his mind from wandering to all the dark places it can go. Now, as an adult, as someone who’s seen the damaging effects of a full moon spent alone, and even worse, a full moon spent in the wrong company, Sirius knows all too well the potential catastrophes that are waiting for Remus. Worse yet, there is nothing Sirius can do to prevent them. All he can do is wait. 

And wait he will as he settles himself back onto the sofa after giving the plate in his hands a hastily cast warming charm. With his fork, he picks at his food—shepherd's pie, a usual favorite as Remus always prepares it expertly and Sirius has grown to love the comfort of the meals Remus chooses to make. They always sit warm in his belly, nestled just below the warmth that Remus brings to his heart. But tonight, the food alone is not enough to soothe Sirius, and something deep within him, deep enough to pull at his magic and make the lights flicker, propels Sirius from his seat. 

He wanders to the balcony and steps outside, just in time to see the moon rise to its peak. It’s time. In a blur he shifts into Padfoot, lays on the cold, slatted balcony surface and lets out a whimper as he lays his head onto his paws, settling in to ride out the moon with Remus in some way, even if it’s not in the way that he would like. 

_____

The moment that Sirius feels the warm rays of the sun hit his coat, he blurs from a dog back into a man and looks out over the rooftops of the neighboring buildings as if Remus will appear with the sun. He has half a mind to apparate straight to Dumbledore’s office to give the aging man a thorough verbal lashing for going back on his word, for using Remus again, for putting his life at risk. But memories of being bounced clear across the sky from the wards that protect Hogwarts—the same ones he tried to breach months ago after patching Remus up when he appeared back home to Hope and Lyall—keep him trapped on the slat wood floor of the balcony, standing vigil for Remus’s return, if there is even one at all.

To distract himself, he tries to mimic what he’s seen Remus do every morning with his mini garden out here—cast a few _Aguamentis,_ pick the ripened fruits and vegetables, pull off any dying leaves. Feeling remorse, he realizes that he should’ve done this days ago, that just like him, a few days without Remus has left this garden in a bit of a sorry state. But it’s not too late to fix, and he wants it to be perfect for Remus when he returns home. He wants himself to be perfect as well, though that will take more work than a few carefully casted spells. There is no charm, after all, that was made for fixing heartache. However, toiling away in Remus’s garden does work as a distraction and also serves to help Sirius feel closer to Remus than he has since his departure. 

He’s pruning the tomatoes when a soft _pop_ startles him from behind, causing him to accidentally pull the tomato plant he is working on out of its place in the soil. Spinning on his heel, he quickly turns—wand in one hand, tomato plant in the other—to find Remus, ashen faced and standing before him. Well, swaying more accurately, because as soon as Sirius realizes that Remus is finally home, Remus collapses heavily forward and into Sirius’s arms, completely unconscious. 

“Remus,” Sirius says worriedly as he drops the tomatoes and holds Remus close to his chest. He can feel Remus breathing raggedly against his collarbone and he’s gone so limp Sirius struggles to get a solid hold of him, and where he does manage to grab him around the waist his hand is met with the distinct feeling of warm, wet blood. 

Scooping Remus up more properly, Sirius carries him inside and into his own bedroom where he can lay him down and assess the damages. The first thing Sirius notices is that Remus is abnormally pale—all traces of his usual golden, almost ethereal glow are gone. Even his freckles that Sirius is running two gentle fingers over have gone dull and cold to the touch. He leans down and kisses them, hoping that his fingers are mistaken, that the warmth that he associates with Remus will be felt on his lips. But all he feels is another weak exhale of breath from Remus’s mouth onto his chin. He casts a warming charm onto the bed and the bedroom in general, hoping to blanket Remus in some warmth while he gets to work on trying to mend him.

 _“Accio,_ healer kit!” he says with a swish and flick of his wand, sending his bag swooshing through the air to him from its usual place below the sink in the bathroom. With the kit now on the bed, he gently rolls Remus onto his side to better expose the area where Sirius had felt the blood. 

Using careful hands, he lifts the hem of Remus’s shirt to expose his side. It’s worse than Sirius could have imagined. Stretching from Remus’s hip bone to his first rib is a bite mark larger than any Sirius has ever seen, and judging by the size and its placement, it’s clear to Sirius that it was not a result of Remus biting and clawing at himself. This came from another werewolf, and a much larger one at that. 

Sirius feels his blood boil. He wants to rage, he wants to scream, but none of that is going to help Remus now. All he can do is put his head down and set his mind, hands, and magic to the task before him. He takes a deep breath and begins cleaning the wound, using all matters of potions, ointments, and charms he can muster, all the while murmuring soft words to Remus.

“You’re going to be okay,” he assures softly, even though Remus can’t hear him. Even though it’s himself who needs to hear these words the most. “I should’ve come with you. I should’ve upheld the promise I made to you years ago. That you’d never be alone, that I’d always be there with you. But I can’t do that if you won’t let me.” Sirius’s voice breaks as he continues to work at cleaning and wrapping Remus’s wound. He sucks in a deep intake of breath to steady himself, then begins working and speaking again—saying all the things he wished he could’ve said to Remus days, maybe even years ago. “I know you don’t need me to keep you safe, but you shouldn’t have to do this alone. I don’t care what Dumbledore says. This war, whatever he has you doing, is not more important than your life. I wish you could see that. I wish you could see that you’re worth more than this. That you deserve good things. That _I_ could be a good thing for you—” Sirius’s voice catches in his throat and he swallows thickly, then swipes at his eyes with the back of his wrist before he whispers, “I want to be a good thing for you.”

He lets those words hang in the air, let’s them fill the space as he secures a gauze pad over the bitten and torn flesh on Remus’s side with a soft cloth bandage tied with a knot. From there he removes what’s left of Remus’s blood and dirt caked clothes, undressing him down to his pants and wiping away any residual mess from his skin. Next, he charms the bedclothes clean and pulls a blanket up over Remus, then slides in beside him—to one, keep Remus on his side and his freshly dressed wound undisturbed, and two, to grant himself the simple pleasure of lying beside Remus and holding him close, even if it’s just for tonight. 

Once nestled in, he carefully drapes his arm around Remus, and rests his head on the pillow cradling Remus’s. “I love you,” he whispers then places three gentle kisses onto Remus’s shoulder and falls asleep to the feeling of Remus pushing his back more firmly against his chest and feebly whispering back that he loves him too.

_____

Waking the next morning Sirius is relieved to feel heat radiating from Remus’s body. Even if it is slightly feverish in nature, it’s still an improvement over the lack of warmth from the night before. He lets out a soft sigh in his relief and gently lets himself nuzzle into Remus’s hair, breathing him in one more time as he opens his eyes, happy and content to have Remus here in his arms. 

After a few treasured moments of just lying and being with Remus, listening to his breaths flow in a steady and strong rhythm that wasn't there the night before, Sirius reluctantly extricates himself from behind Remus and sits on the edge of the bed. He reaches into his bureau and pulls out a change of shirt then shrugs it on and tosses his old one onto the heap of laundry in the corner he should have washed days ago. 

Remus remains perfectly still in his slumber, and before Sirius rises he twists himself around to smooth Remus’s curls away from his forehead and to gage his temperature with his palm. It’s nothing a belly full of food and a few days rest can’t take care of as his body and Sirius work at healing his side. 

On light feet, Sirius tiptoes out of his bedroom in an effort to not wake Remus and makes his way to the kitchen. He fills the kettle and sets it on the burner, then preps two mugs for tea before attempting to make some French toast out of what’s left of the brioche that Remus had baked the week before. Just like he’d done the night before in the garden, Sirius sets to work making breakfast using his memories of watching Remus expertly make this meal for him in the past. He’s a little more heavy handed with the ingredients and the strawberries from the balcony that he slices are not nearly as evenly cut as Remus would have done, but he figures once it’s finished and plated it’ll taste just the same.

Sirius is flipping over the first slice in the buttered pan when he hears a light tapping from somewhere behind him. His heart drops into the floor as he hopes that when he turns around it won’t be to see another Hogwarts barn owl in his kitchen with a letter addressed to Remus clutched in its talons. 

“Why’d you leave?” Remus asks once Sirius turns around. His head is tilted to rest his cheek on his shoulder, his bottom lip is lightly trapped between his teeth, and he’s leaning bracingly against the counter. His cheeks are thankfully flushed with color again, but Sirius can see the weariness in his eyes. 

“I didn’t want to,” Sirius admits. “But you need to eat.” He holds out a hand to Remus and holds his breath as he waits and hopes for Remus to take it. Remus keeps his gaze averted as he reaches with light fingertips and places his hand into Sirius outstretched palm. Once grasped, Sirius is quick yet gentle at pulling Remus into his hold, swaying a little side to side when he feels Remus’s slender arms wind around his waist and his head rest against Sirius’s shoulder. 

“Thank you,” Remus whispers.

“There’s nothing to thank me for.”

“There is,” Remus sighs. “I’m just sorry it took this for me to realize it.”

“To realize what exactly?” Sirius asks, his heart rate picking up in anticipation of whatever it is that Remus will say next.

“That you already are so good for me. That maybe with you, I can have something special. Something I never thought possible. Something I never thought I deserved.” 

Sirius places a kiss into Remus’s curls as he shuts his eyes firmly to help grasp control of the emotions that have been swirling around them for weeks now. “You deserve everything good, Remus. I wish you could see that.”

Remus sniffs, nods his head and squeezes Sirius a bit tighter around the middle. 

“I meant it last night when I told you I love you,” Sirius says, maintaining his sway. “And I’d love it if you gave me a chance to prove it to you.”

“You already have,” Remus says and relaxes more thoroughly into Sirius’s hold. 

“Does this mean I can call you my boyfriend now?” Sirius asks, a slight lilt in his tone. 

“As you wish,” Remus laughs. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You flip the French toast, it’s burning.”

“Fuck,” Sirius mutters and not wanting to let go of Remus, reaches toward the stove with one hand to push the pan away from the lit burner, with Remus laughing lightly in his arms the whole time. 

“It’s a good thing I’m your boyfriend now,” he teases, “because you are shit in the kitchen.”

“Hey,” Sirius protests, guiding Remus to look at him with his hand. “I was trying to do something nice for you.”

Remus smiles warmly at Sirius, making Sirius’s heart melt. “How ‘bout you kiss me instead?”

“That I can definitely do,” Sirius says and brings their lips together while he continues to cradle Remus’s cheek in his palm. At the press of their lips and the intermittent slow glide of their tongues Sirius feels a warmth bloom throughout him and he’s almost dizzy from it, dizzy from Remus, dizzy from his love. He knows without a doubt that he will always want Remus by his side. 

With that in mind, when they pull their lips apart, Sirius places one more quick peck upon Remus’s lips, then rests his forehead against Remus’s. “Do you think you can grant me one more wish?” Sirius tentatively asks, still afraid of pressing his luck, but too determined to not ask this of Remus.

“What is it?” Remus asks. 

“Please don’t go anywhere Dumbledore tells you to again.”

“Alright,” Remus agrees, then kisses Sirius lightly again to seal the deal. 


	7. Epilogue

_ One month later. _

Sitting side by side as Dumbledore speaks to the handful of Order members assembled at headquarters, Sirius intertwines his fingers around Remus’s underneath the large wooden table and gives his hand a gentle squeeze. Remus, in return, knocks his knee against Sirius’s thigh a few times before resting it more firmly against Sirius and casually shuffling over a little closer in his chair. 

Just like he had at the meeting months earlier when this shelter in place was put into action, Sirius has managed to tune Dumbledore's droning on out again. If he was disheartened with what Dumbledore had to say back then, it’s nothing to how he feels now. Sure, things have turned, the war is swinging in their favor now after the mission that nearly cost Remus his life again—his intel leading them to one of the biggest Death Eater raids yet the night of the full moon—not that Dumbledore has even acknowledged Remus’s sacrifices for it. 

Of course Sirius wants to do what he can to help the Order finish this war, they’re so close now, especially after a yet to be disclosed Death Eater tipped Dumbledore off about a collection of Horcruxes that Voldemort has made—evidenced by the locket placed center of the table—to which this meeting was called about, to assemble a task force of members to hunt them down. 

Sirius looks around the table at his teammates. James is of course sitting in rapt attention—Lily has already excused herself from the task at hand after having to explain that she’s expecting. Peter is here as well as Mary, both eager to lend a hand under the guidance of Kingsley Shacklebolt who will be running point on the whole endeavor. Marlene and Dorcas are of course raring to go, happy to be reunited, as is Emmeline Vance and Benji Fenwick. All and all, it’s a good team and Sirius is proud to be a part of it and relieved to have a shared objective with Remus—an objective that will keep them working together side by side as they are meant to be. 

“Remus,” the sound of Dumbledore’s voice and Remus stiffening up beside him breaks Sirius from his thoughts. He turns his attention to Dumbledore and narrows his gaze. “As much as I’d love to have you on this task force, I’m afraid I’ll need you to assume your old post for the full moon this weekend. Though we caught all those Death Eaters, Greyback is still at large. The packs are our best way to track him down. I have the coordinates of another camp I’ll need you to join tomorrow at the latest.” 

Sirius chances a quick glance at Remus and notices that all the color has drained from his face, making him appear ashen again, just like he did when he returned home after that fateful night with a bite that’s still healing on his side. Sirius is about to jump out of his seat and protest on behalf of Remus when he feels Remus slide his fingers out from between his and rise to his feet. 

“My deepest apologies, Professor,” he begins and turns to look at Sirius to give him a quick, tight smile before he turns back to face the man asking him to risk his life yet again. “But I’m no longer willing to risk my life for this. You see, I’ve finally found a reason to want to survive this war and I intend to fight for him instead of you.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore nods and says solemnly, though Sirius thinks he catches a slight twinkling in the old man's eyes before he says, “Your skills in problem solving and defense will be quite useful to the task force in its search for Horcruxes.”

Remus slowly sits back down but Sirius is quick to wrap his arm around Remus’s narrow shoulders proudly. Remus looks at him, his eyes soft and honest as he rests his head onto Sirius’s shoulder, and Sirius can think of nothing better to do than to place a firm kiss into his curls. 

_ Fin _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated! And feel free to come find me on Tumblr at [kattlupin](http://kattlupin.tumblr.com/)


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